


Maniac

by orphan_account



Category: House M.D.
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom James Wilson (House M.D.), Fade to Black, M/M, Married Couple, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough play, bratty House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: OVER 18 ONLY. DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH THIS FIC IF YOU ARE UNDER 18. HEED THE TAGS AND THE RATING.House always finds new ways to provoke Wilson. Luckily, Wilson is happy to be provoked.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Kudos: 130





	Maniac

House always knows when it's coming.

The drive home was thick with it. The negotiations Wilson insists on, even after all these years, began before they even left the hospital car park. Once they had a loose plan, Wilson had turned up the radio and delivered intermittent touches and caresses to House's knee, his hands, just as he always did between the pressing need to actually drive.

They said no more about it; Wilson made some vague complaints about a nurse who had lost a meds chart and House half-listened, unsure of what to say to console him as usual. He shifted in his seat for comfort as his erection grew in his pants, noticing Wilson doing the same. Felt the lingering heat on his cheek as Wilson pressed a kiss there after parking outside their apartment; shrank beneath the predatory glint already forming in his husband's eyes. He remembered shuddering. Remembered Wilson opening the passenger door for him like he always did, stopping to kiss him again at the front door as he fumbled for his keys.

They're barely inside when Wilson pounces, like a cat throwing itself on a bird. Sure, House may know. In fact, he's been aware this was coming since approximately 1pm this afternoon. But he always feels unprepared. Off guard, as Wilson grabs his hips and wrestles him up against the hallway wall. 

He hears himself grunt, his back colliding with the plaster. Wilson slams his body up against his, gripping his jaw between finger and thumb as he holds him in place with his weight.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” he hisses, with a little jut of his hips. It's just enough to bring their groins into contact through their clothes; not enough for any real friction.

House bites back a little whine of desire, squirming against him. Wilson responds by tightening his grip on his jaw, his other hand reaching up for the top of his head. His fingers twist through the hair there, causing a prickle of pain against his scalp.

As he gasps, Wilson's lips flicker upwards into a satisfied smile. “Keep still. I am not fucking around, Greg.” 

**

_It may be true that House does things to provoke Wilson. Stupid things, mostly. If they both have to attend a meeting House can't wriggle out of no matter what he does, he'll purposely sit opposite Wilson, holding his gaze as he runs the end of his pen across his lips. He isn't entirely sure that this actually works on most of the world, but Wilson will turn pink and look away, tripping over his words as he tries to vocalise his contributions, Cuddy narrowing her eyes at him in confusion. House never has to pay too dearly for this. Maybe a spanking in Wilson's office afterwards, or a period of kneeling beside him while Wilson ignores him and catches up with paperwork. No big deal._

_ But sometimes House needs more. Like today._

_ He'd known Wilson was busy. Opportune moment. He'd sat in the chair across from his desk in silence for a while, watching him as he signed chart after chart, intermittently shaking out his cramping hand. Eventually, without looking up, Wilson had said, “you just gonna stare at me all afternoon?”_

_ House shrugged. “I can't sit and admire my husband's beauty?”_

_ As he lifted his bad leg to throw his feet up on Wilson's desk, Wilson pursed his lips with a sigh, moving the stack of papers away from his shoes. “Either tell me what you need or go away.”_

_ “I'm glad you asked.” He leaned back in the chair, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “According to my calculations, you and I have not had sex in around 32 hours.”_

_ “When I got home last night you were asleep and this morning I couldn't get you out of bed.” As Wilson continued scribbling, House fought the urge to kick the pen out of his hand. “Now go away. Cuddy's coming by soon. Meeting.”_

**

Now, Wilson breathes hard, his face alight with desire and aggression. House savours his expression; he can't get enough of Wilson like this. It's dizzying when his husband plays this role; when he's threatening, glaring at him like that. When his face is centimetres from his, when he puts his hands on him, uses the kind of language he entirely refrains from in any other setting. 

House hisses through his teeth, trying to turn his face away to little avail. His voice trembles slightly as he snaps, “Get off me. I thought it was funny.”

“Yeah. Hilarious.” Wilson is smirking now, as his knee slides between House's thighs. House doesn't want to acquiesce so easily, to part his legs where he stands, but he can't help himself. Wilson chuckles softly. “That's better. Stop resisting me. It's like you _want_ to make this worse for yourself.”

House does. God, he does. So he can't resist raising his arms; can't resist giving an experimental push to Wilson's shoulder, just to see how he'll react. He likes to goad him; likes to hear Wilson growl in frustration and grab his wrists in one hand, pinning them above his head in a bruising grip that makes him choke on a whimper. He swallows hard, his cock aching in the confines of his clothes. 

Wilson's hand roams across his chest, brushing his nipples through the thin material of his shirt. “Mmm,” he murmurs, as his eyes follow the trail his hand makes. House bites back a gasp, fighting not to arch into his touch. “Think we'd better get your clothes off.” He leans in, and as his hot breath tickles House's ear, he can't hold back a moan of longing. His voice lowers as he continues: “I think you should always be naked in my presence. Ready for me to use you whenever I want. If nothing else, maybe it'd humble you a little. Get you to behave yourself for once in your damn life...” 

He trails off, lips working a trail of harsh, brutal kisses along his jaw. As his breaths escalate further, House arches against him, eyes fluttering closed at the thought of being humiliated like that. But he doesn't react. It's too early.

Instead, he grits his teeth. Opts for sarcasm. “Yeah, because that would be so...” He gasps as Wilson's lips brush a particularly sweet, tender spot on his neck. “...practical. HR nightmare. Plus, I think everyone seeing you act like a fucking maniac might ruin that boy wonder image a little.”

Wilson nips at his shoulder. “Talk back to me one more time, you little brat. I dare you.”

It sounds like a challenge, and knowing Wilson, it is. So House keeps it simple; twists the grin off of his lips as he growls, “fuck you, James.”

**  
_ “Meeting with Cuddy, huh? Sounds important.” House crossed his hands over his stomach. “Shame. I was gonna offer to get under your desk. Thought I'd do something nice for you. Like deep throat your cock while you're signing all those annoying prescriptions. I guess Cuddy coming by doesn't have to change that, so long as she can't see me and you've been practising your pokerface. Unless...” _

_ He watched Wilson closely; checking for that blush in his neck, the way his pen wavered in his grip. He found both. Still, Wilson just cleared his throat. “Not a good time, House.”_

_ “Unless,” he continued, “what's that fantasy you have again? Something about fucking me in front of her, right?”_

_ “That's your fantasy,” Wilson interjected. _

_ He shrugged. “You still got off on it that time we talked about it. So that makes it yours too. If we start now, by the time she walks in...”_

_ Wilson looked up then, his lips a thin line of irritation. “Go. Away.”_

_ “I. Don't. Want. To.” He smirked, leaning forward. Wilson held his gaze, eyebrows slightly raised. It was a look House knew well: a look that said, "I dare you." Well, dare accepted. “You're hard, aren't you? Admit it. You wanna be balls deep inside me while Cuddy watches.” He licked his lips. “You want me bent over your desk, begging for it. Pleading for your dick. Wanna slide inside me... tell me what a good boy I am while you fuck me...” Ignoring his own hardness, he smirked. “Isn't that right?”_

_ Wilson tugged at his collar, clearing his throat again. “You are not a good boy. Remind me never to call you that again.”_

_ “What?” House smirked. Goal achieved. "I'm just talking. You want me to do that more, right?"_

_ Wilson's lips twitched. “Come here. I'm going to kiss you goodbye then you're gonna leave me alone for the rest of the afternoon. Okay?”_

_ “So no office fucking?”_

_ “No office fucking.”_

_ “Prude.” _

_ House licked his lips, knowing from Wilson's wavering tone that he'd cemented the deal. Struggling to his feet, he leaned across the desk, eyes falling closed as Wilson's hand rested on his cheek. Tender. Felt good. _

__

__

_“I love you,” Wilson murmured. “But...” House gasped as the grip on his jaw tightened. “When we get home, it's fucking over for you. Do you have any idea how hard I am?”_  
**

House is half expecting the slap to his face in response to his taunt, but he still whines his shock. It's not hard; Wilson is always gentle with his face, and the sting in his cheekbone fades almost instantly, but it's enough to make him feel as though the floor is falling away beneath him. He can feel his resistance crumbling. Feel his eyes losing their focus, his desire to misbehave waning as the endorphins start rolling through him. 

“That's enough.” He can feel Wilson's cock pressed against him, rigid, aching for him. His hand rests on his cheekbone, eyes locked on his, cold, dark with desire. It's nothing like the way Wilson usually looks at him, and it's giddying. “It's time you learned...” slap, “to show me...” slap... “some fucking respect. Shut your _mouth._”

House whimpers, feeling his body slacken against his husband's. Feeling that digging, bruising grip around his wrists, pinning him in place. Ready for Wilson to do whatever he pleases to him. He draws a shaking breath before murmuring, “okay.”

Wilson's face softens. He smiles warmly as he leans in, touching his lips against House's for a gentle, lingering kiss. “Everything good, darling?” he murmurs.

House nods furiously. “So good. God, don't stop. Please, don't stop...”

Wilson gives a quiet laugh. "Good boy."

As Wilson pulls away, his hand slips down House's face to run his fingertips over his lips. House parts them obediently, closing his eyes with a soft moan as Wilson's finger slips into his mouth.

“That's it,” he whispers. “Show some willing. You don't stop talking, and yet... I can think of much better uses for this pretty mouth.”

House shudders as he anticipates what's coming next. When Wilson's hand releases his wrists, he can still feel the ghost of his grip. 

The command is low and guttural in his ear. “On your knees. _Now._”


End file.
